What a Day
by silverwolf04
Summary: A day in the life of Dr John Watson. Established John/Sherlock relationship.


A/N: This ties in with all my other stories, so your going to want to read those first. Big, huge hugs to all my reviewers. You guys are the best, and a big wave to **ScopesMonkey.**

* * *

Doctor John Watson had decided that the best way to wake up in the morning was wrapped up with his lover, in bed, preferably not having to move too much in the foreseeable future. Surprisingly, Sherlock also happened to find this situation highly desirable. John had been slightly confused about this once they'd become lovers, Sherlock was renowned for finding inactivity boring.

"How can I get bored when I'm in bed with the most fascinating man I have ever met?"

Coming from Sherlock that was even more than a declaration than love. They hadn't left the bed at all that morning.

However the pounding sound on the door that woke John up early in late August, informed him he would not get this luxury.

"Hmm," Sherlock muttered unintelligibly, slowly waking. The pounding increased in volume and frequency. John turned to face his lover, more awake than the man in question.

"Sherlock?" Rather than reply, the taller man just tried to cuddle up closer to the doctor. Who would have guessed Sherlock Holmes was a secret cuddler? However John refused to be distracted.

"Why does it sound like Lestrade is trying to single-handedly bash our front door in?"

At this Sherlock's eyes flew open, before jumping out of bed and running out the bedroom.

"Sherlock," John shouted after the fleeing genius who was presumably hurrying to hide the various pieces of evidence he'd unofficially nicked without Lestrade's permission. Sherlock ran back in to the room. His hair was deliciously messed and his eyes were alert with too much morning adrenaline.

"Clothes," John gently prompted. While he had absolutely nothing against Sherlock going around the flat naked, several members of Scotland Yard, who were currently stationed outside their door and about to gain entrance, might.

Not even bothering to stifle the laugh at watching Sherlock hop out the room trying to put his trousers and shirt on at the same time, John flopped back down onto the bed wondering how many cups of tea he going to have to make and tried to remember if Geoff liked one or two sugars first thing.

* * *

By the time John made it downstairs, Sherlock and Lestrade were engaged in a shouting match with approximately ten officers surrounding them including the usual suspects. John wondered whether to put salt in Donovan and Anderson's tea or just not make it for them full stop.

"Would you mind not staring, constable," John whispered to the uniformed officer who seemed unable to take his eyes off the human skull on the mantelpiece.

"He takes it rather personally." The police officer whipped his head around in shocked confusion.

"The skull?" John was glad Sherlock was to busy telling Lestrade where he could stick his procedure, if he'd heard the constable he would have ripped him to shreds.

"No, Sherlock." The man nodded, obviously not understanding a thing. John was just glad he'd stopped staring at the skull and the bullets Sherlock had left next to it. It wasn't exactly legal in the UK after all.

John quickly checked both kettles for body parts before filling them to the brim and flicking the switch. He then grabbed Sergeant Fields, who was an old veteran when it came to the drug busts and was always happy to lend a hand.

"Where are they up to?" She smiled at him before going over to the mug cupboard.

"Mr. Holmes has just told the DI in no uncertain terms that he is not the boss of him." John grinned. Sherlock acted more like an annoying younger brother around Lestrade than he did around Mycroft. John grabbed the tea jar and chucked it to the Sergeant who caught it with one hand and started to add tea bags to every mug. John followed along with the first kettle.

"Right then, Lestrade should be ready to bring out whatever new evidence has been found and they can sit down and maybe figure this out. I might even get to my interview on time." John glanced at his watch. Drugs busts were even better than alarm clock for waking a guy up on time. Less opportunity for Sherlock to delay him with sex. Plus no evil snooze button.

"Looking for a job, Doctor?" the sergeant asked. She placed the tea jar back next to the sugar and the coffee and grabbed the milk. John nodded, switching to the second kettle.

"Yep, could do with the extra cash and not that I don't love spending all my time with Sherlock..." Sergeant Field interrupted with a knowing glint in her eye.

"Oh, I know, Doctor." John was well passed blushing around the Sergeant. Funny what you end up talking about whilst making tea. He already knew about her love-hate relationship with her ex-boyfriend, and her two children, Daniel and Adam, whilst he had entertained her with many a story about Sherlock.

"But," he continued as if never interrupted, ",I'd like to actually do some doctoring every once and a while, what with being a doctor and all."

The sergeant nodded understandingly. She'd become a police officer for the same reasons. To help people and do some good.

"Fine, but this is the last time I give into your bullying Lestrade. Especially at seven o'clock in the bloody morning."

The sergeant poured the last drop of milk and John added the last sugar just as the two detectives sat down to examine the collected evidence. John smiled as the sergeant loaded up the trays.

"Right on time."

* * *

John was in the middle of deciding which extortionately priced sandwich to buy (tuna or ham) from the tube station, when he got a text from his lover.

**Where are you? SH**

John sighed. He'd told Sherlock about the interview two weeks ago, reminded him last week, stuck a note on the fridge three days ago and told him at least five times in the last forty-eight hours that he would be going for a job interview from nine-thirty till eleven. But then again, he'd never really expected Sherlock to remember. He was just glad the text hadn't come during the interview.

**Kings Cross. JW**

The tuna was slightly less expensive, but he really fancied ham.

**What the hell are you doing at Kings Cross? SH**

John really couldn't resist.

**Looking for platform nine and three-quarters. JW **

Let him try and work that one out. John grabbed the last ham sandwich off the shelf and took it up to the counter to pay. The interview had gone well. He should be able to start in a few days the hours were flexible. John really couldn't ask for more.

**Have you gone mad John? There is no platform nine and three-quarters. SH **

Except maybe a more well read lover.

**Next film night, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Now do you actually want something? JW**

He'd probably hate it more than James Bond, but John enjoyed the film and he enjoyed keeping Sherlock pinned down to watch it.

**No such thing as a Philosopher's Stone. Completely impossible to turn lead into gold. Believe me. I tried. Where's the milk? SH**

If anyone else had said they'd tried to turn lead into gold John would have laughed. However with Sherlock he was tempted to ask in all seriousness if he'd tried any other metals. Maybe another day.

**We used it all up during the drugs bust. Go and get some from the shop. JW**

John absent-mindedly wondered if Sherlock and Lestrade had caught the murderer. They must have for Sherlock to be thinking about making himself tea.

**Can't. Far too busy. You'll have to get it. SH**

John bristled at that. Sherlock probably hadn't moved since he'd left that morning.

**Busy doing what exactly? JW**

John hoped the text managed to convey his annoyance at the genius. The next text took a minute to come though as his phone lost signal on his way through the underground.

**Lestrade and I are chasing the murderer around Hyde Park. I was hoping I could get tea for you by the time you got back but I won't have time to get milk as well. Sorry. See you at home. SH**

John suddenly felt very guilty. This relationship stuff didn't come easily to his lover but he was trying. Even while chasing criminals. John's eyes suddenly went wide with fear and his hands trembled as his fingers typed a hurried text.

**Stop texting me you idiot and focus on not getting killed. JW**

John suddenly wished he was there with him but there was no way he could get there in time to be of any use. He would have to wait till he got home to reassure himself of Sherlock's health.

He made doubly sure to pick up some milk though.

* * *

As soon as Sherlock had gotten home John kissed quickly and firmly, with barely contained passion. Sherlock was obviously still high from the chase and had absolutely to objection to John pulling him up the stairs and gently pushing him onto the bed. Sherlock sat down and his hands went automatically to his lover's hips as John straddled him, their bodies flush together as John continued to kiss him, deeper and longer. Unfortunately they both eventually felt the need to breathe and so they broke the kiss but never the contact. John's lips trailed to the hollow just below and behind Sherlock's ear, which they'd both discovered was particularly sensitive. John gently kissed it earning a gasp from the detective before moving down his long neck (the guy had to be part giraffe), alternating between kisses, nips and licks. All of which were reducing the detective to jelly beneath him.

John took his hands from Sherlock's hair and skimmed them down to his shoulders before pushing the genius to lie down. At that moment Sherlock, let out a hiss which John knew was not of pleasure. John quickly ceased all movement as the doctor took over from the lover.

"What is it?" Sherlock looked up at him with lust filled eyes and John struggled not to carry on kissing him. But Sherlock's health was more important at that moment. Seeing John was going to budge, Sherlock lifted his hands to undo his shirt and show John the bandage that covered his left shoulder. John frowned.

"Why didn't you tell me?" John asked as his fingers lightly pressed against the edges of the bandage. No real damage and it would heal completely within a few weeks, but John still didn't like it. Sherlock moaned at John's gentle touch.

"You haven't given me a chance, have you?" he asked rhetorically with raised eyebrows. John continued to frown, but Sherlock rather preferred being kissed to being examined.

"Kiss it better?" he asked suggestively. John raised his own eyebrow, before allowing the doctor to slip away. He bent over to push Sherlock into the bed, being careful of his injury. Sherlock groaned and arched his back at the feel of John pressing down on him, trying to bring his lover closer. Once again John kissed Sherlock, this time, holding nothing back.

* * *

By evening they had relocated to the sofa. John was sat on the sofa trying to fill in his Sudoku book (the ones Sherlock hadn't already done for him anyway). Sherlock was draped across the rest of the sofa with his head in John's lap, face turned to the quiz show on the TV, munching on a large packet of Smarties. Every now and then John would snake his hand down to nick a sweet from the packet. Sherlock whined in protest.

"You really don't need the extra sugar, love. Your hyper enough as it is." Sherlock then began to wolf down the yellow ones as fast as he could. John wondered when he fell in love with a thirty-four year old child.

They were just stetting down to watch Star Trek reruns when there was a sudden pounding on the door. John was getting serious d_éjà_ vu. He looked down at Sherlock who had tensed at the unexpected sound.

"Two drugs busts in one day? That's a bit much, even for you, isn't it?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and got up carefully to avoid damaging his Shoulder any more.

"Ha bloody ha. So very funny."

Lestrade came bursting through the door at that moment, pausing slightly at the very domestic scene he'd just interrupted.

"Oh Geoff, close your mouth you look like a bloody goldfish," John snapped at the detective, regretting it almost immediately. It wasn't his fault. It was the criminal classes. Couldn't he have one night alone with Sherlock? Was that really just too much to ask for? Apparently so.

"Sorry but uh..." Lestrade shock his head to try and clear it of the twilight zone that he'd entered into. He'd just never seen Sherlock so... calm.

"Uh...?" Sherlock mocked. "Any time today would be good."

Now that was the Sherlock he was used to.

"The Johnston's case?" Lestrade asked them. Sherlock nodded and waved his hands trying to hurry the policeman up.

"Yes, the Johnston twins. We got them a week ago." Lestrade shook his head.

"Not twins, triplets." Lestrade revelled in John's stunned silence and Sherlock's inner frustration for having missed this.

"Any chance..." Lestrade shook his head again.

"All diagnosed with the same mental symptoms five years ago. The family psychopathic set." Lestrade didn't mean to sound so, well, mean. But he really wanted to go home and sleep. There were only so many hours straight you could work with Sherlock Holmes before needing a stiff drink.

"Are you coming?" Sherlock looked at him scornfully.

"Of course. We'll follow in a cab." John looked up at his lover from the sofa with tired eyes. As soon as Lestrade let the door slam close behind him, Sherlock held out a hand to his doctor.

"Coming?" John's eyes lit up as he took the offered hand and was pulled up into a pair of waiting arms before being lead out into the night.

It had been one hell of a day. And it wasn't even over yet.

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A/N- Please read and review


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